


Opening Yourself Up to Glee Poetry (Vol. 3)

by sothinky



Category: Glee
Genre: Other, unique
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sothinky/pseuds/sothinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glee poems based on prompts from my tumblr followers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opening Yourself Up to Glee Poetry (Vol. 3)

[ ](http://teiledesganzen.tumblr.com/)

_The Difference Confidence Makes_

One fills the whole room,   
the curves of her dress, the air—  
a supernova

of sound. The other  
pictures herself a black hole,  
so full, so empty.

 

> [Marley/Unique, huge, haiku]

 

_(Nightbird Prefers Spinach and Mushrooms)_  

The gavel’s come down on the meeting,  
as heroes roll eyes at the ceiling.  
The suit-wearing Blonde  
of greens isn’t fond;  
he holds up the group’s pizza eating.

 

>  [platonic Blam, bickering over pizza toppings, limerick]

 

_Snow Crush_

One winter’s eve, with practice done,  
they headed for their cars—  
and as they walked, the snow began  
to settle on the ground.

It fell in light, connected flakes  
that landed on their lashes.  
Giggling now, they made white tracks,  
their breath like puffs of smoke.

The two boys finally stopped their play  
and stood next to their cars.  
Not quite sure what they should say  
They parted in the dark.

The brown-haired boy kept fixed upon  
the tail lights of the other,  
wondering when the blonde became  
his knight in wintry armor. 

 

> [Blam (ship or friends), ballad, prompt: knight/night]

_strong black woman_

she gets right in his face sometimes,   
pointing with her finger—  
and asks when he will realize  
that she takes no direction.

 

> [Artie+Unique, “direct,” ballad stanza]

 

_Roomies_

When Rachel and Kurt do the dishes,  
the activity leaves them in stitches.  
Bubbles float on the air,   
while they sing Fred Astaire—   
or that song about two sister witches.

 

> [Kurt/Rachel, dishes, limerick]

 

_Form and Function_

It’s the middle of the night,   
within the darkened loft.   
By the tiny glow of light   
Kurt’s alone at work.

The soft light shines from his machine—   
it purrs an ordered hem.   
Kurt keeps a steady pressure on   
the pedal on the floor.

This work he does is tailoring—   
just making his clothes fit.   
It’s not about the artistry   
he knows he could achieve.

The snip of shears reminds him of   
a moment in a flash—   
of twirling in a skirt of plaid—   
his lover looking on.

 

> [Kurt/Blaine, sewing Ballad stanza]

 

_Six Flags_

The boys share the stage—  
heat and sweat envelops them,   
screams pierce through applause.

Wes shrugs his shoulders,  
starts to speak, his words swallowed  
by sleek, steel coasters. 

 

> [Wes, Blaine, summer, haiku]

 

_Greetings and Salutations_

When she turns her head  
it’s with an extra flourish,  
momentum enough  
for loose strands to kiss her cheek  
before snapping back in place.

The hair doesn’t make  
the woman, though—neither does  
the face. Do you need  
her to take it off? Or leave  
it on? She’s  _there_ , either way.

 

>  [Unique, wigless, tanka]

 

_Porcelain_

You’re no china doll  
even though you chose the name.  
No muppet Gelfling,  
No Doughface—you have edges  
when they take a piece of you.

 

> [Sue, Kurt, respect, tanka] 

 

_Regarding the Look on Your Face  
as You Glance at the Recent Cover of _ Splits

wipe that surprised “o”  
from your mouth—okay, loser?  
I may be a bitch  
but even that is an art  
I’ve been on the squad for  _years_

my talent leaps right   
off the artificial turf,   
it soars above, splits   
and twirls—even as you watch  
helmet heads fumble the ball.  
They  _suck._ But I rule.

 

> [Becky, cheerleading magazine, tanka]

 


End file.
